


I Like it Rough

by Saint_Rick_The_Dick



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: A little bit of blood, Anal Sex, Biting, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Humiliation, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Scratching, Spanking, breath play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 04:30:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14128107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saint_Rick_The_Dick/pseuds/Saint_Rick_The_Dick
Summary: Sometimes, Rick has very specific expectations.





	I Like it Rough

When Rick demands something in a particular tone, you obey. There is no ‘I don’t know’ or ‘Maybe’ or - the worst transgression of all - ‘No.’ **  
**

He commands, and you listen. He expects, and you deliver.

“Take - get your clothes off. Strip. Now.”

Your voice is small, but you know your place, know what he wants to hear.

“Yes, sir.”

Shaking, you comply, toss your jeans, t-shirt and underwear into a pile on the floor. When he praises you - “Good little slut” - you flush with warmth, the previous trickle of your desire rising at the words. Rick knows how to wind you up, which buttons to press to render you pliant and complacent, and so he manipulates you with uncanny ease as a result.

“Hands behind you. Grab your elbows. A-a-and don’t - make sure you hold still.”

You do, and he circles around, binds your arms, pulls on the restraints to test them. They’re solid - you’ve been in this position enough times to know his knots are infallible. He delivers an open handed slap to your ass and you jump, yelp. The sting is palpable - Rick isn’t gentle - and you shiver at the pain, your skin breaking out in goosebumps. But even before that sensation fades he hums, leans down, and bites your neck. His teeth sink into the soft flesh, the pinpricks of his canines two radiant points of pure agony. It drives your arousal - sends it soaring -  and though you sob, you hold your place.

Rick hasn’t given you permission to move yet.

He runs his tongue along the angry, red mark, soothing it, before he shifts to the opposite side, blessing you with another hard bite. This time, you can’t help it and your knees buckle, though he smacks your ass again when he sees you tremble. The blow shocks you, snaps you back, and you straighten immediately. You’re pussy is slick and aching, and you resist the urge to squirm, rub your thighs together in search of friction. Rick notices your self-restraint, dips down and places a kiss on your shoulder.

“Good girl.”

You smile, shudder at his approval, moan when that kiss becomes a bite. One hand fists your hair and he wrenches your head back and around, forcing you to look at him. He’s amused at your shameless need, the way so little can accomplish so much, though his own features are colored by that same lust, the carnal greed which so often seems to take hold and propel him. When he presses the hard line of his erection into your lower back you emit a pathetic, needy sound, rock your hips. His voice is a low growl as he grinds against you.

“Eager slut. Y-y-you want - you want my fat dick, baby? Want my big cock in your ass? Keep - keep disobeying and you won’t get  _shit._  I-I-I said  _hold still_.”

You stop immediately, manage a breathless “yes, sir.”

The only response you receive is a grunt of approval. Rick narrows his eyes, studies you a moment, and then grins, wide and mischievous. He orders you to open your mouth. As soon as you do, he spits, smirks at your expression of surprise.

“Swallow it, slut. I-I-I know you want to.”

And of course, he’s right.

His free hand ghosts over your sternum, past your naval, down between your legs where he runs two, long fingers through your slit. He tells you how wet and sloppy you are, how you’re a perfect little whore for his dick. When he finds your clit you gasp as he rubs slow, deliberate circles, sending out prurient waves of bright bliss. They fog your mind and you keen, struggle with the urge to roll your hips. Oh  _god_  if he would just go a little bit further.

You beg for mercy.

“Rick - Rick,  _please._ ”

And he laughs.

“I-I-I don’t think so, baby. You’re not - I’m not done with you yet.”

He releases your hair and pushes you towards the sofa. With your arms bound, your balance is off-kilter, but you manage to land on one knee, face-plant into the back cushions. When you go to adjust, Rick grabs a shoulder, hauls you up, just to throw you down onto your stomach along the length of the couch. You turn your head to watch him strip, and when he’s finally nude he at least allows you to admire his bony hips, the way his ribs present as perfect, prominent ridges beneath the sallow skin of his chest. You’ve often wondered if Rick is cognizant of his own grotesque beauty. You were forced to come to the conclusion that even if he was, he just didn’t care.

He palms his cock, strokes it with long, languid pulls as he licks his lips, takes his time to peruse your naked form. This is something you know he enjoys: the tease, the control. Rick likes making you wait, watching you struggle between your fierce eagerness to obey and the heady desire to be satisfied. Finally he straddles you, grips your hips and yanks them up and back, runs his shaft along the cleft of your ass. He grunts when you whine and push into him, though he makes no move to continue.

“Tell me what you want, slut.”

When you don’t respond fast enough, he rakes his nails along your lower back, down your thigh. It burns as he digs into the soft flesh, leaving a collection of red lines in his wake. You hiss at the pain, bite your tongue to muffle your sounds, but he knows it only makes you want him more and he smacks your ass - both cheeks this time, one then the other - just to watch you flinch.

“ _Answer me._ ”

And this time, you do.

“Rick! I - I want you to - to - “

You trail off, not yet capable of giving life to the primal need which consumes you, and Rick leans over, bites your shoulder, works his jaw until you shriek with fresh agony. This time when he pulls away, you’re certain you’re bleeding, can feel the warm wetness, but you don’t care. The misery brings new lust, and you’re desperation reaches strange heights until  _oh_  at last you find the words he’s seeking.

“Oh my  _god_! Please! Please, Rick! Fuck me in the ass!”

He chuckles, amused but fulfilled, and you hear the click of and squelch of lube before that cold liquid hits the tight, puckered entrance of your asshole. One and then two fingers pushes it inside, and as he scissors them to stretch you open, he offers praise.

“Thaaaat’s my good girl. Y-y-you’re such a slut for my big dick in your ass, aren’t you baby?. Always - always ready to take my cock.  _Ffuck_  you’re so beautiful.”

You whine in agreement, push back on his hand hoping he gets the message. He does, withdraws his fingers and you once again hear the sound of lube as he slicks himself, places the fat head at your ass and slowly, slowly presses inside. There is always pain, this part always hurts. Rick’s cock is too big, too much at first, and as your body is forced to accommodate his girth you grit your teeth, wish you could reach for your swollen clit to ease the delicious tension.

He groans your name, grips your hips, impatient but willing to grant you this mercy. Rick tempers his movements as he fucks you open, but once he breaches that ring of muscle, sinks into your ass, his previous restraint evaporates and he picks up a savage rhythm. Your whimpers turn to throaty moans, accompanied by the obscene sound of his hips slapping against the backs of your thighs as he claims you. The earlier discomfort gives way to salacious longing, renders you a drooling, sloppy mess. His cock splits you open with each vicious thrust and you sob in a staccato rhythm, beg him to touch your clit, to let you fall apart. But you’re denied and he growls at your insolence.

“Nnnnnff ffuck, baby, you got nice tight ass but y-y-you - you can’t cum yet, slut. Not. Yet.”

Rick slows to grip your wrists, hauls you up by the binding so he can wrap a hand around your throat. Those long fingers dig into your flesh, cutting off your air supply, and you have the foresight to wonder if he’ll let you cum before you pass out, but that thought is overridden by the way this new angle allows him to penetrate you further, deeper, forces you to take all of him. You release a gurgling moan, the sweet tension ever churning, building. He fucks you, relentless, his balls slapping against your empty, aching pussy and finally,  _finally_ , he lets go of your arms - but not your throat - and his fingers find the stiff little button of your clit. You clench, try to wail but it comes out a squeak.

“That’s it baby, cum for me. Cum with my cock in your ass. Do it.”

And with those words, you’re his. The hand around your throat is gone, you suck in air, and the bliss unravels, that tight, coiled pressure releasing all at once. Your orgasm is a flood of euphoria which drives you to incoherency, and you try to call his name, though it comes out a guttural howl. Rick groans a string of filth in response, and with both large hands grips your hips hard enough to bruise. He pounds you, chasing you down into the abyss where he finds is own completion moments later, buries his cock to the hilt in your ass, and fills you with his cum.

You’re exhausted, shaking when he pulls out, and you slump forward onto your stomach. Rick turns at the noise, pulls on the rope to release your arms. They tingle as the blood flow returns and you lay there, feel his cum leaking from your ass. He squats down, runs a hand through your hair. His expression is amused but satisfied, and you smile at him.

“Y-y-you did good for me, baby.”

At his approval, you flush and nod, grateful for his attention, affection. It’s short lived, however, his focus shifting elsewhere as he digs through his lab coat to locate his flask. Once found, he takes a long pull, eyes you again, grabs an arm and pulls you to your feet. You’re unsteady, but manage to hold your place.

“Now uh - go get cleaned up. W-w-we got shit to do.”

He turns you around, smacks you on the ass by way of motivation.

“Chop chop. I-I-I don’t have all fucking day.”

And you know exactly what to say: “Yes, sir.”


End file.
